Stranded - the Hobbs and Foster Story
by PiperNickson
Summary: Hobbs gets himself into trouble while doing a favour for Shepard and stumbles across a surprise that will have lasting consequences for the Normandy crew. Contains Original characters. Written in collaboration with JagesPages: /
1. Chapter 1

Title: Stranded Chapter one  
Authors: Jagespages and DinkyMew  
Game: Mass Effect (one)  
Disclaimer: Bioware own all content and characters relating to the Mass Effect franchise. Abigail Shepard and Original character Argyle Hobbins belong to DinkyMew. Original character of Foster belongs to the amazing Jagespages and the Swagger Vasa Chronicles series.  
Characters Features: OC Hobbs and Foster – some Shepard and Kaidan later!

**To read this in PDF version including some art done for the story by the amazing JJ please visit here: art/Stranded-the-Hobbs-and-Foster-story-363433839? q=gallery%3Adinky-mew&qo=0**

Author's dedication: _**For Nev, because when it gets dark enough you can see the stars – love T-bird and JJ, x**_

* * *

_If you can read this you're too fucking close and… you're dead!_

The sticker was a testimony to the man behind the controls.

Foster loved to sucker other ships in with his Corsair multi-fighter. He knew she looked like a fragile piece of junk, low-slung with pieces welded here and there to give her the appearance she was held together with spit and Duct tape. The old Alliance stickers were long gone, blasted by heat and travel through Mass Effect relays. Carbon scoring streaks marked her hull. There was a crack in the view shield, something he found amusing, because he'd paid a voluptuous Asari artist to paint it on as well as some well-placed "bullet holes", to carry the illusion even further, to lure pirates, mercs, whoever his target was in close so he could blast them out of the sky.

He gazed out of the cockpit and frowned. He fought a constant battle with rust and there was the pilot's version of medi-gel spread on the wings, making them appear pocked like a case of acne. He smiled fondly. Taggert had given him the ship when the ex-Alliance LT had passed away two days before Foster's 18th birthday. His smile faded. He still missed Taggert and it had been seven years.

But, to business.

He gazed at the holo display that formed the console and his hands performed the wizardry only an experienced pilot could. He could make the Corsair fly rings around other craft. She was fast and her ordinance, for such a small fighter, was varied. Foster had removed some of it.

He didn't carry the air-to-ground bombs , anti-disruptor torpedoes or air-to-ground missiles. He'd kept the six Mass Accelerator machine guns, 2 anti-proton thrusters, and the air-to-air missiles. He'd found the cumbersome ordinance put a drag on the ship when she kicked into Mass Effect FTL drive.

His quarry was in a gunship. Muglai, a batarian bastard who had kidnapped one of the volus diplomat's mistresses. Foster didn't care who his clients were as long as they paid the credits. The fact that a volus could have more than one mistress and the one who had been taken was human made him snort in his flight helmet. He hated slavers. It was the one exception he made, although he didn't publicize it, but Foster would work for free to bring down slavers.

"Go ahead, four eyes," he goaded. "Take the first shot. Piss me off."

The gunship swung to the right and Foster echoed the move, just as a missile streaked by him. Foster was expecting the PKR (precision kill rocket) to seek out his craft and when it veered back toward him, he was ready. He loosed one of the air-to-air missiles and watched the two collide in mid-air. The shields on the Corsair flared as debris struck.

Foster glanced at the read-out and groaned. 75% capacity. He was unable to use his best ordnance against the A-61 Mantis gunship. It only carried two people and he knew one of them was the volus' mistress. She was probably frightened to death. He fired one of the machine guns, stitching a line of energy past the gunship's bow as a warning.

Another missile streaked toward the Corsair. Without thinking, Foster switched the shields to cryo, taking the ship's heat signature out of the equation, knowing what would happen. When the missile couldn't detect a heat signature it would change its trajectory and track the only heat signature available: a certain gunship.

"Muglai, you better listen to me. Your missile's going to impact you in a minute. Tick…tick. Agree to land in Tuchanka's DMZ and I'll take it out for you. I just want the woman."

"Human, I will do as you say."

Foster waited until the internal countdown must be making all four of the batarian's eyes widen and then he blew up the missile. As expected, the explosion 's force struck the gunship. Smoke poured from one of its engines and Foster followed it down to the surface, landing his ship behind one of the many barriers erected. He sealed his helmet and extended the ramp, clanking down it in his boots. He wore older armor, but it had been modified to include reinforced shielding and medi-gel dispensation if he wasn't able to do it on his own.

Muglai was standing forlornly beside his disabled ship, arms crossed over his chest. A woman dressed in material that showed every curve glared at Foster and he thought, "What's wrong with this picture?"

He'd already pulled his Stinger pistol. He strolled toward the pair, never taking his eyes from the batarian.

"What did I tell you last time, Muggy ole boy?" he chided. Foster's voice tended to be the most quiet when he was at his most deadly. He hoped the batarian was picking up on just how angry he was. "No more slavery!"he hissed.

"I..wasn't, Fos. You have to believe me." All four of the batarian's eyes met his earnestly; there was truth and conviction in his words, but Foster stayed sharp.

"It's true." Foster blinked behind his helmet at the unexpected confirmation from the woman. "I hired him to kidnap me so I could escape that mask-breather."

"You have got to fucking be kidding me," he muttered.

Muglai waved a hairless arm to indicate his willingness to cooperate. "So, I'm not a kidnapper."

Foster's eyes narrowed as he saw the Blue Suns logo on the batarian's armor. "Why were you bringing her to Tuchanka?"

Muglai shrugged as if he knew the game was up. "Target practice," he growled and brought his Executioner shotgun out from where he'd hidden it in the cradle of his arms and unleashed a fireball blast at Foster.

Carnage could do massive damage, but it was slow enough to dodge. Foster dived and rolled to cover behind one of the barriers. He knew the carnage shot had cost Muglai. Shotguns were notorious for over-heating and taking time to recharge. The batarian had missed his shot. He wouldn't get another, Foster thought grimly.

"Hey, you want the woman, human? You take one shot at me and she's dead."

Foster put away his pistol and reached back to the pack on his back to pull his M-29 Mantis. He caressed the long barrel, pulled up the view screen on his helmet and pressed his right eye to the scope sight. Muglai's ugly mug swam into view, so close to his hostage they almost merged into one target. Foster saw the blue glow as Muglai activated his kinetic shields. The Mantis was good against armor, but shields and biotics could cause problems. Foster adjusted his aim, steadied the sniper rifle in his arms, released a breath and pulled the trigger.

The batarian grew a fifth eye, blood spewing from his bulbous head, body crashing to the ground, taking the woman with him. She broke free as the batarian's arms went slack and got shakily to her feet.

Foster lowered the sniper rifle and stepped out from cover. The woman—he didn't even know her name—was screaming obscenities at him. "Are you crazy? You could have killed me!"

Foster put the rifle back in place and crossed his arms over his chest. "I wasn't aiming at you."

"I don't want to go back to the Citadel," she cried, wringing her hands.

He frowned. "You're evidently thinking I give a damn." He turned and pointed to his ship. "See that ship? Every credit I make doing odd jobs like this goes into her. I don't bring you back, I don't get my other half pay." He fixed her with a pair of electric blue eyes that could sizzle and burn like lasers. "I need my other half. I got repairs need to be done for my baby."

"What if I pay you more than he paid you to bring me back?"

Foster stared into her beautiful green eyes. He could tell she was used to getting her way. "Lady, I have a rep to consider."

"And he always keeps his word," a deep voice announced.

Foster waved to the huge krogan and varren that crossed the desolate wasteland of Tuchanka. The dusty brown planet's surface was riddled with scars and craters.

"Ratch, how're they hanging, buddy?" It was a standing joke between them about his quad and Foster's twins.

"Lower and heavier than your two puny human ones."

Foster snorted, then whistled sharply and the varren ran to him, rearing up on his shoulders, tongue slobbering on his face. "How's Urtzie?" he crooned, petting the beast. "He remembers me," he added in delight when Ratch finally made it over to them. The krogan merchant gazed at the dead batarian.

"Helluva shot," he complimented Foster.

Foster bent and picked up the shotgun and tossed it to the krogan. "Bet you can get a decent price for that in your store." He straightened, watching Ratch examine the weapon and nod approvingly.

"He could have shot _me_," the woman said, giving the krogan a frosty glare.

"Wasn't aiming at you, so, no, he couldn't have." Ratch growled at her. He spoke a command and Urtz returned to heel.

Foster braced when Ratch lowered his massive head. They banged heads together, Foster getting the worst of the impact. He felt a lump start to form on his forehead almost immediately, but it was the krogan's standard greeting.

"Ratch, I need to call in a favor."

The krogan's dark eyes narrowed slightly. "I still owe ya, so what is it?"

"Because of your profession, being a vendor, you're off-planet more than on. This lady needs a ride back to the Citadel."

"I am _not_ going back!" she shrilled.

"Shut! Up!" Foster and Ratch chorused.

Urtz growled at her and she backed away from the varren.

"As I was saying, she needs a ride to the Citadel. The volus diplomat in the Embassy wants her back. He owes me half my pay. You get it for me and we'll split it fifty-fifty." Foster held out his hand and the krogan shook it.

"Deal. Come with me, honey. Don't try to run. Urtz will think you're prey."

Foster snickered behind his hand. "Just send the creds to my account, Ratch."

"Don't be a strange human," Ratch said, butchering the human saying "Don't be a stranger" on purpose.

Grinning, Foster turned to his ship. As he entered, he saw there was a message linked in from one of the buoys that tied all the galaxies together. A holo of a man in an Alliance uniform appeared. He had a very erect carriage and care-worn face.

"My name is Admiral Kahoku." The admiral went on to explain his predicament—missing marines on the planet Edolus.

"I'm not in the military, sir." There was something about this man that made the irreverent pilot/merc add the "sir".

"I know that, but I need someone I can depend on to investigate this. I'm tied up with red tape and nobody's giving me any answers. You come highly recommended as a man who gets results, Mr. Foster." There was a pause. "I'll pay you, of course."

Foster named his price, cutting it considerably for the man. Alliance soldiers didn't make all that much.

"Agreed. I'm sending the coordinates to your ship. Good luck. Kahoku out."

Foster flew the ship out of Tuchanka's atmosphere to the mass effect relay. His small ship was equipped with FTL drive and some special modifications that allowed him to use the relays. He'd paid for it by working a stint for Cerberus when they'd still been black ops for the Alliance. When they went all xenophobic, Foster cut his ties. He'd been young and stupid and desperate, but he vowed he'd never work for them again. As far as he was concerned they were terrorists.

His ship barreled through into the Sparta system and his scanners picked up a signal, an Alliance beacon. He flew the Corsair closer to the bleak landscape of the planet Edolus, eyeing the sand-colored hills that encircled an indented place where the beacon was located . He noticed an M-29 Grizzly, which narrowed down to Big-Muther-fucking Mako in his vocabulary. He was saddened to see several dead marines laying in the sand near the burning vehicle and the transmitter. That transmitter needed to be destroyed, he decided. It was probably activated by a marine, but now it would draw any ship to this wasteland.

He aimed one of his machine guns at it and was just about to fire when something huge erupted from beneath the sand and rose into the air. A gigantic maw and tentacles exploded toward him and Foster had no time to move the ship out of the way. He dodged the best he could, but the creature spit a vile concoction of green bile and acid at him, that landed on one wing. Foster fought the controls as the ship bucked as the wing bubbled and disintegrated.

Knowing now that the lower part of the plain was the creature's nest, Foster aimed his crippled ship for one of the high hills surrounding it. The acid had damaged his engine and he was going down.

He managed to land rather than crash on a hill. Smoke poured from the engine as the acid ate away components, leaving him stranded. The creature—he had no idea what it was, emitted a sound that made him clap his hands over his ears, even with his helmet on. It was loud, piercing and caused a reaction of terror the likes he'd never known. He forced himself to lower his arms and reached for his sniper rifle. He aimed and took a shot, but all that did was send the creature burrowing back under ground.

Panting, Foster lowered his weapon. He stowed it in his back pack and turned to determine the damage to his ship. The acid stank, stinging his nose, and he knew, before he could do any repairs, it would have to be removed. It would eat right through his gauntlets.

Foster did what he could, scooping up handfuls of sand to put out the engine fire. He waited for the interior to cool off and clear of smoke before boarding the ship. He took stock of his supplies and water, other than the amount stored in his armor. Three days and then he would be in trouble.

He climbed into the cockpit and attempted to send a message, but the components had been fried. Nobody but Admiral Kahoku knew where he was. This might be the worst situation he'd ever been in, he reflected and crashed a fist down on his thigh, the armor clanging loudly in the small space.

He came out of the ship, put a hand up to block the glaring sun and grabbed his sniper rifle, using the scope to zero in on the beacon. It spun, emitting its message and he hoped it would be heard. It was his only hope of being rescued.

He stored the rifle and flopped down on the silicate sand, using his ship as a barrier against the dust-choked wind and heat, and gazed bleakly from his highlands perch. The yellow sun peered back blearily at him through sulfurous clouds of dust.

* * *

"I didn't expect you to call." She said, flicking her dark curls over shoulder illustriously.

Hobbs watched her carefully, conscious that the movement was deliberate, flirtatious and normally he would have responded, but not today. Today he felt defunct and so it was not so cute and pretty as it was irritating and obvious.

He lifted his glass taking a careful drink of his beverage – cold beer this afternoon – and chided himself mentally. His foul mood was not Tessa's fault, nor was her being here – after all _he_ had called_ her_ and asked her to lunch. It had seemed liked such a good idea at the time but as they sat in unusual silence each counting the minutes and trying to save the conversation it was swiftly turning to regret.

It had all started with a kiss.

They had docked the Normandy and Shepard had given them all a couple of days shore leave while repairs and upgrades were being applied to the frigate. Initially he had been excited about stretching his legs, the Normandy was a nice ship – but he was an Operative and rarely stayed cooped up on a vessel for long spells.

He had been busying himself in the shuttle bay, watching the dock workers loading and unloading cargo, his omnitool playing his old tunes – tastes passed down from his grandfather – when Shepard had appeared. It was that moment, that gut-wrenching knife in the heart moment when he had looked up from the tool bench to see her standing in a red dress – a dress! Something that was rare enough for Shepard; but damn did she not make it look like it belonged on her all the time – and she glanced over her shoulder at him as she bounded down the rampway and straight into the arms of the lieutenant.

He had not expected it to hurt as much as it did – stirring old feelings he had thought were long ago put to bed, which were in fact just dormant under his skin like some kind of sleeping parasite.

"You're very quiet."Tessa ventured and Hobb's smiled wryly at her, the expression automatic, safe, evasive.

"Just tired." He said easily and she returned to fiddling with her napkin.

He felt like an idiot. She was a beautiful woman, and Hobb's could pretend that they could have something together – he could maybe even manage a few months of it too – but he actually did feel tried. Bone weary in fact.

"Do you want to head back to my apartment?" She asked and her eyebrow rose suggestively. He considered it carefully, running through the scenarios, remembering with warmth their last evening spent together and it was very tempting. He opened his mouth to accept the offer when his omnitool vibrated against his wrist, and he frowned, drawing the message open smoothly after excusing himself.

It was from Shepard, short and to the point:

'Hobbs, could you meet me at the docking bay asap. I need a favour.'

He sighed, closing the message and looking back to Tessa who was smiling at him, her hand on his, her thumb tracing little circles on the back of his hand. He should go back to her apartment, he knew that – here was a woman that wanted him and on some primal level he probably wanted her too. He should go back to her apartment.

"I've…" He sighed "I've kind of hit an impasse." He said quietly "You know when your head is telling you one thing and your heart is telling you another?"

She grinned delighted at him "I know what you mean." She nodded sincerely "I get that all the time."

He smiled "Which do you choose normally?" He asked.

"Oh my heart." She said emphatically "Every time."

Ok then. With an apologetic smile he pulled his hand from under hers and rose from the small table carefully.

"Where are you going?"She asked, her brow creasing to a frown as she watched him collect his leather coat off the back of the chair.

"Following my heart."Hobbs said carefully "I'm sorry Tessa… I have to go."

She made a noise – some kind of exasperated gasp, probably annoyed he had wasted her afternoon, and he did feel bad about that, but he had needed that moment to realize his feelings for what they were. He was still in love with Shepard – being around her again, seeing her again had reminded him how much she meant to him to begin with, and that was ok.

He could live with it.

As he passed the check-in for the café he paid the bill making sure to leave a little extra in case Tessa wanted to order some more drinks for herself, it was the least he could do he supposed.

The docks were busy, ships lined the ports dislodging crew and cargo alike and in amongst all the chaos Hobb's spotted Shepard right away. She looked so out of place, still standing in that red dress that hugged every curve of her body – slender shoulders bared to the artificial sunlight framed by her long wavy dark hair.

He paused to glance at his reflection in the nearest glass store front – he looked cool, casual, and why the hell was he so nervous suddenly? He had dressed down in ripped jeans and an old grey t-shirt that had seen better days. It looked faded and worn under the black cracked leather jacket he had thrown over the ensemble.

He was so intent on preening his spikey-top he didn't even see the batarian shopkeeper until he was right up at the glass filling his own reflection with an alien one. His brow was drawn down in a frown and he waved him away with an angry scowl. Hobbs gave his own frown back, raising a middle finger to the batarian. Needless to say he didn't seem to understand the gesture.

She had her back to him, her hair brushing her waist as she stood with her arms folded, moving from one foot to another, wringing her hands impatiently as she craned her neck to look for him. He stepped in behind her, touching a hand to her shoulder, flinching at the static shock that washed over his skin like cold rain. She turned, her blue eyes bright as she grinned openly at him.

"At last!" She cried, nudging him playfully with an open palm. "I've been waiting here for ages!"

He moved his shoulders, remembering to breathe. Barely.

"I came as quick as I could Shepard." He said sullenly "I was… busy."

"Busy." She repeated, but she didn't pry, just looked at him dubiously as she glanced behind her to where the Normandy was docked.

"You wanted to see me."He reminded her and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes." And when he gave her a smile she frowned "Not like that Hobbs." She took a breath thundering on smoothly. "I got a call from Admiral Kahoku," She said quietly. "Some of his men have gone missing on a recon mission in the Artemis Tau cluster, he appealed to me to see if I could get any help from the Council, but they won't even give it a look Hobbs. I would go myself… but the Normandy is in dry dock for two days…"She let the sentence trail off, the question left unasked.

Hobbs frowned "You could take a shuttle Shepard. I could get you one from the Alliance."

She smiled sweetly but he was not lured in, that smile always meant she was about to say something that was going to piss him off.

"Well, I thought it was more your thing." She said lamely and he raised an eyebrow. "And I kind of had plans…for my shore leave."

He sighed "So let me get this right, I'm going to give up my shore leave so you can spend time with Alenko?" He shook his head "And what is in this for me?"

"Oh Hobbs!" She moaned, pushing him playfully "What is it you want?"

He gave her a small smile, raising an eyebrow in thought and she nudged him again, harder this time.

"No." She said flatly and he sighed, rolling his eyes as he scuffed his sneaker off the grated flooring.

"Nothing." He muttered sullenly "I'll go. It's fine."

She smiled, suddenly bashful as she laced her hands together in front of her "Are you sure?"

He nodded "I'm sure. Go, have fun at my expense." He teased and her smile grew. She threw her arms around his shoulders, pressing a hurried kiss to his cheek before she stepped back smoothing her hair.

"I owe you one." She said honestly and Hobbs nodded.

"He better be worth it." He warned "Do you have a location the men were last seen?"

Shepard shook her head. "Only that they picked up a distress signal on Edolus." She said carefully. "Be careful Hobbs, it just doesn't feel right. You know?"

He nodded giving her a smile "You know me Tempy."

_Fucking Alenko._

He gunned the shuttle as it broke Edolus' atmosphere, he wasn't so much flying blindly as he was furiously, but it was almost one and the same thing to Hobbs.

He had just entered the system when the scanner picked up the distress beacon on Edolus, and the monitors were showing nothing but desert for miles and miles. He hated the desert, and what's more, he hated going to the desert for _fucking Alenko_.

With a grunt he pulled up, the shuttle banking smoothly and he congratulated himself on the handling of the ship even in the throng of his temper. Below the flat wasteland was dried and cracked, sand blowing over the scorched earth as the wind picked up. He could see the transmitter for the distress signal, not far from its position was a destroyed Mako and several bodies, bodies he could only assume were the admiral's men.

He considered turning back, but the humanitarian in him knew he couldn't just leave those soldiers down there; at the very least he could bring the Admiral back their tags.

Banking again he brought the shuttle about, his scanner picking up another strafe of debris to the West, scattered on one of the sandy mounds that surrounded the flat like a framework. It appeared he was not the first here and his lip curled as he registered the transport type on his console. Damn scavengers here to pick the bones clean.

He was so focused on the console he didn't see the thresher maw until it was too late – as he brought his focus back to where he was going there was simply a large, monstrous mouth in his windscreen – tentacles flailing wildly as it prepared for him to crash headlong into it.

"SHIT!" He cursed, the proximity alarms suddenly blaring in his ears as he pulled hard to the left, it was no good though, he was still going to hit the damned thing!

The shuttle missed the mouth and instead crashed into the side of the Thresher's head, toppling over the top like a ragdoll and spinning wildly off the other side. The alarms whirred around him as he crushed his eyes closed, holding the controls tightly as he fought to regain some control – it was no good though, the motion had thrown him into a spin, one he had no hope of pulling out of.

Hitting the emergency button he gripped the control with one hand, strapping himself in with the other and forcing the oxygen mask over his face just as the ground rushed to greet him.

When his eyes opened at first he thought he was blind. Everything was white, searing hot and white against his eyes, but as his sense slowly sank back into him he realized he was on his back in the sands of Edolus. With a start he rummaged his person, hands feeling all the nooks and crannies for injury; gratefully he grabbed one testicle and then the other taking comfort that they were both in fact still intact.

"Fucking Maw." He groaned, pushing himself to his elbows. His shuttle lay in tatters a few feet from him, debris and scorched sand littering his trajectory as he had skidded over the desert like some great accident. He was about to pull himself to his feet when the sound of a safety being cocked off a rifle made his ear twitch and he looked up to see the barrel of a gun aimed in his face.

The man behind it should have been a stranger, but the blue eyes and hardened face of his younger brother were recognizable even after all the time they had spent apart.

"Beer." He blurted, his heart leaping to his throat as he caught his breath "What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

Foster's eyes looked like they would pop out of his head. He slowly lowered his gun, turned his back on his brother and scuffed a boot into the sand, sending a small geyser into the air. His body language was of barely contained fury. He scooped up a rock and hurled it off the cliff.

"Salvation, I thought," he said, whirling back to face Hobbs. "I see a shuttle. I think, rescue. I see the shuttle pilot headed for that damn nest down there and I think scanners'll pick it up, but, no-oo, fucking creature knocks the shuttle out of the sky, along with my chance to get off this gods-forsaken planet!" He spread his hands wide and laughed. "But, am I upset? Hell, no! Because if I have to face this I get to face it with none other than my brother Socks who still flies with his head up his ass!"

Hobbs let out a low laugh, gathering his senses enough to get himself to his feet as he stretched to his full height, taking in the surroundings carefully. He knew Foster was waiting expectantly for an answer, but he took his time, drawing it out - knowing that would annoy his younger brother further. He gave him a lopsided smile, running a hand over his rough chin as his gaze dropped to the rifle in his brother's hands.

"Well, little brother, I hope you brought something a bit bigger than that pea-shooter, because that sure ain't taking out a thresher maw." He smiled down at him. "Did you like... grow at all... since I last saw you?"

Foster stowed his sniper rifle. It wasn't good this close range anyway. His gaze went up…up…up, finally finding the top of his brother's head. "Looks like you grew enough for the both of us." He pointed to the nest below. "So, that's what that monster is: thresher maw, eh?" His eyes traveled down far enough to meet the hard blue-green chips of Hobbs and he cocked his head. "How's the weather up there?" he drawled, a cocky grin spreading over his face.

With a withering glare Hobb's drew back his lips into a smile, flicking spittle down onto the face of his little brother in a fluid motion.

"It's raining." He drawled deadpan, pressing his hands into his hips as he glanced back down to the nest. It was the only course of action now, if he could somehow rewire the transmitter to boost the signal from his omnitool he could maybe hail a passing transport vessel - or it could even hit a comm buoy if they were really lucky.

But having Foster here complicated things entirely. He hadn't seen him since they were both kids, and as much as he wanted off the planet he couldn't help but cast a curious and furtive glance over the man the boy had become. He was impressed with the way he held himself, he had obviously had experience fighting and he was carrying a sniper rifle - further indication that he knew how to take care of himself. He still had their mom's eyes though, Hobb's mused as he finally drew his gaze back to the nest with a heavy sigh.

"Well." He said heavily "Rock, paper, scissors? Loser has to play bait?

"Best shot stays. _Second _best is bait." Foster eyed him shrewdly. "You cheat at rock,paper, scissors."

Memories of another time assaulted him and he tried to hold them at bay. He saw both of them, younger, him not so hardened. Socks had been the older brother he looked up to, literally and mentally. Socks made being orphans bearable, until the day the foster home matron had approached them and told them she'd found a new home for Foster—a home on the Citadel.

"_No way! You can't split us up!" Foster fought the tears, but they crept through the fringe of his golden lashes. "Socks! Don't let her do this!"_

Muttering a string of curses in turian, Foster jerked himself back to the present and their predicament. Slowly, he wiped the spittle from his face. The wind had already dried it so it came off easily. "Jerk," he muttered, meeting his brother's searing gaze with a look that should fry him in his friggin' argyle socks.

Hobbs narrowed his eyes "Don't call me a jerk you little wipe; I wasn't the one who sent you away. I wasn't the one that gave up on you Fos."

He spoke the words hotly, emotions that were not natural to Hobbs' cool demeanor rushing to the surface as he was confronted by his past in glaring reality. The little brother he had sworn to protect, who had been taken from him - shipped to somewhere beyond his reach, and he had tried hadn't he? He had climbed the ranks, he had looked for him, for years finally figuring the little prick didn't want to be found. Maybe his suspicions had been right; maybe Fos _did _hate him after all.

"Fine." He ground out, "Pick a target and shoot already." He snapped his mouth shut as he turned from him, taking a step back, putting a little much needed distance between them as he shot out a deep breath, struggling to keep his cool. Struggling to keep anything he had worked so hard to gain all these years.

It was his brother! His baby brother back from the apparent dead, and all he could think about was how much he had let him down. How much he should have been there and what he had missed. He took it to the gut, turning to face him and moved his shoulders impatiently.

Foster read what was behind his brother's features. Socks always had kept his feelings close to the cuff. He hung his head a moment, knowing he was out of line, but his brother always could push his buttons. He wasn't about to apologize for calling him a jerk, but he could lighten up a little. They were in this shit storm and needed to work together. He switched tactics, turning his lips up in an engaging smile, projecting something other than anger and disappointment in his eyes.

"No, it wasn't your fault," he said and pulled his sniper rifle from the back pack. He pointed at the still smoking Grizzly below in the danger zone. "Bet I can not only hit the cannon, but send a round right down its gullet." He waggled his eyebrows. "You game?"

Hobbs smiled, the look on his brother's face infectious as he followed where he was pointing into the nest. It was a damn tough shot and he scratched his stubble, raising his chin defiantly.

"Alright." He said, squinting one eye closed against the sun. "Not to put you off or anything, but I've trained in the Alliance. I hope you brought your running shoes." He folded his arms as he watched his brother ready the rifle like a pro, his bravado faltering as he watched him line up the sight.

Suddenly he wished he had challenged him to an arm wrestle. Guns were not his thing, he was most advanced at hand-to-hand, a pistol if the occasion called for it, but a sniper rifle? He hadn't handled a sniper rifle in years.

Foster knew it took three things to be a good sniper, and a wicked shot was the least of them. Discipline and cunning were the important qualities.

Cunning alone can make a sniper successful. A sniper must decide where to position himself, how to get there, how to leave, what to take with him, how to camouflage the hide, where to place alternate hides, and what to do if something bad happens. A sniper must be able to think an entire shoot through from beginning to end and set it up in a manner which will produce results.

Foster saw the misgiving, only a hint, enter his brother's eyes. Foster knew he could make his Mantis sing, the bullet pure notes of joy, intent on only one thing: taking down the target, whatever, whoever it happened to be.

Snipers do not shoot from rooftops, open windows, or a prominent terrain feature. These are the places that will immediately draw attention and return fire. A rooftop can be a hard place to escape from, too. Of course, all that was off the table. Foster wasn't about to mess up this shot, was he? His finger paused on the trigger as he sneaked a look at his brother. With those long legs he should be able to cover more ground than Foster's shorter legs could manage, but was his height a disadvantage?

Foster swallowed hard. He hadn't seen Socks in such a long time. He studied the handsome features, trying to gauge what the years had done to him. All he saw was impatience in the crossed arms, the splayed legs, the expression, blue-green eyes that would flay him alive if he missed the damn shot.

Shit!

Marksmanship was the final element. A sniper must be able to engage targets at as long a range as was possible under any circumstance. Distance equals escape time. In order to develop adequate shooting skills an individual should be prepared to fire between 5,000 to 10,000 rounds of ammunition during long and arduous practice sessions. A good coach was essential. If you didn't know how to read shot strings you wouldn't know what you were doing wrong. Foster's coach had been ex-Alliance, but, even _he_ couldn't make a sniper rifle sing like Foster.

Foster aimed, lying prone on the ledge, timed his breath, and gauged the wind. His view narrowed to the barrel of the cannon. His finger stroked the trigger. The bullet whizzed out of the Mantis, the shock of its exit thrilling through the rifle into his hands, his body.

Hobbs followed the trajectory - just - as the bullet hit dead on target. The shot simultaneously making him grin with pride and frown with bitter resentment.

He didn't have a hope in hell.

"Alright." He gritted, holding his hand out resigned. "Give it here."

He watched as Foster got back to his feet, blue eyes sparkling wickedly through blonde lashes and for a moment Hobbs couldn't even look at him. He handed him the rifle and Hobbs reloaded easily, noticing the loving care that had been given to the gun – it was in immaculate condition considering his brother's dress.

"This is a bit small for me." He said absently, squatting to the ground he planted one knee firmly in the sand, shouldering the butt if the rifle as he lined up the sight. He squeezed the trigger, the kickback hammering into his shoulder and he knew before he even moved the sight from his eye that he had missed.

His brother's soft chuckle only confirmed it as he got slowly to his feet, handing the rifle back over in silence.

"Well." He said at last. "That rifle is made for tiny midget hands. No wonder I can't shoot straight with it."

Foster's chuckle grew into a full-fledged laugh. "Bet when you carry one it's the HMWSR." Foster took his rifle and patted it gently. "He didn't mean it," he cooed. "Bigger's not always better." Foster gestured. "But for that crack against my baby, bend down here so I can punch you in the nose."

Hobbs watched his brother fawn over his rifle and gave him a confident grin "You don't get much bigger than me." He said, his face held with dark seriousness. "And I have a long list of appreciative ladies willing to testify that in fact bigger _is_ better."

Off his brother's look he chuckled softly as below them the Mako rumbled, the stray bullet from Hobbs' shot had apparently hit the tank causing fuel to run onto the electrics. In an explosion that sundered the cloudless sky the Mako blew apart, shrapnel and debris pluming high in a great dark cloud and from its smoky depths a thresher maw birthed into being – the commotion drawing it to the surface once more in hope of prey.

"Fucking maw." He grumbled again.

Foster grabbed his sniper rifle. "How do I kill this thing?" He gasped when the thresher maw crashed into the Grizzly, taking it into its huge, slathering mouth and twisted its huge body around the wreckage. He wanted to cover his ears. The sound of the thing made him cringe. He watched through the sniper sight, looking for a vulnerable spot on the creature as it writhed, pouring acid on the Grizzly that was breaking to pieces. The strength that beast must have, he thought, searching, waiting for an opening.

Beside him Hobbs glared down at the maw, his hands curling to fists at his side as he watched the destruction unfold.

"I've only heard of one being killed without serious firepower." He said seriously "And that was by a krogan."

The Grizzly crumbled, debris falling from the sides of the maw's cavernous mouth. Foster squinted through his scope and steadied his hand, took in a breath, let it loose as his finger caressed the trigger. He had switched to incendiary ammo. The thermite paste should burn through even this mutherfucker.

He grinned when the thresher maw emitted a screech of pain and wrath. He expected it to tunnel back under the ground. What he didn't expect was the head to whip around, the three eyes it had left zeroing in on him.

He leaped to his feet and whacked Socks on the arm. "Run! "


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Stranded Chapter Two  
Authors: Jagespages and DinkyMew  
Game: Mass Effect (one)  
Disclaimer: Bioware own all content and characters relating to the Mass Effect franchise. Abigail Shepard and Original character Argyle Hobbins belong to DinkyMew. Original character of Foster belongs to the amazing Jagespages and the Swagger Vasa Chronicles series.  
Characters Features: OC Hobbs and Foster – some Shepard and Kaidan later!

Author's dedication: _**For Nev, because when it gets dark enough you can see the stars – love T-bird and JJ, x**_

* * *

Hobbs took one look at the approaching maw and grabbed his little brother by the back of his armour, half running with him and half dragging him behind the crashed wreckage of his ship. He released him and Foster dived behind it just as the thresher maw, with an ear-splitting roar, crashed into the side of the highland ledge. It rattled his teeth in his head and made his ears ring. The ground shook like a volcanic eruption. He heard what sounded like large pieces of the cliff as they broke off and rolled down the hill.

"Stupid fucking maw can't get through rock." Hobbs muttered peering round from where he was crouched. Slowly he got to his feet, pulling his pistol free and looking at it dubiously. "Where is a fucking launcher when you need one?"

The highlands weren't very high, Foster discovered when he peeked around the bow of his ship and saw the top of the head and two tentacles that seemed to glow a light blue. A stream of green acid arced over the ledge.

Foster made a grab for his brother who was still standing lamenting his pistol, but he was already diving to the other side of the vehicle. He almost made it, too.

Part of the vitriolic acid spewed onto the ship, but some of it splashed on the back of Hobbs' armor. Armor that was too damn light, Foster fumed, changing to frantic mode.

He tackled him, bringing him to the ground and tore at the latchings to the armor that were already starting to smoke and melt. If that shit ate through, it would burn him badly.

"Get off me!" Hobbs yelled his voice muffled as Foster pressed a knee into his back, forcing his face into the sand. Foster slapped the back of his head when he tried to fend him off, Hobbs clearly did not understand what was happening.

_Probably thinks I've gone bonkers_, Foster thought as he undid the fastenings. The acid was acting fast—eating through the dual layers of fabric armor, kinetic padding and ablative ceramic shell.

"Hold still!" he screamed at his brother, jerking piece after piece off his body. Luckily, the acid had only penetrated the top layers of the armor. The lower part of the suit underneath hadn't been touched, so Foster was relieved to see he didn't have to strip his brother any further than to his waist.

Socks lay still. Dammit, he hadn't hit him _that_ hard, he thought, frantically turning his brother so that he could see his face. His eyes were closed, his face dusted with sand and grit. His nose was bleeding – but he was breathing.

Socks' turquoise eyes flew open and he launched a fist at Foster, who was caught on the chin and sent spinning, flailing backwards as he tried to ease his fall any way he could. His head collided with a rock and blood dribbled from a cut on his forehead, as Foster regained his feet.

He pointed at the thresher maw that was throwing itself against the shelf they were using as shelter. "That's the enemy, numb nuts! What'd you hit me for?"

"I thought you were Alenko." He said dismissively. "Never mind just now." He added, running his hand over the fresh burn on his chest and shoulder. He curled his fist on his right arm painfully, the skin stretching and blistering as he moved it.

He had no omni-tool. They were too expensive, but he did have a medic kit in his ship. He retrieved it and applied medi-gel to his brother's wounds and applied bandages to his forearm and chest.

"How'd you get so messed up?" He stared, taking inventory of the scars and tats that marked his bare-chested brother.

"Fell down the stairs." Hobb's drawled deadpan glancing down at himself – he wasn't about to let his little brother know the hell he had lived through, the beatings at the orphanage – the bullets that almost claimed his life after.

He smiled, remembering painfully the scar on his back that still marked the spot where a stray bullet nearly severed his aorta; he had spent weeks recovering from that escapade and when he was finally on his feet he had the name of the shooter stamped under it on his back as a reminder of the person who had almost ended him.

_Abigail Shepard_.

He could still recall her face the moment she realized she had hit him. It had been in a training scenario with live ammunition – they had just started dating officially too – and she had been adjusting the safety of the rifle when she had greased the trigger by accident, the kickback from such a heavy piece taking the control from her momentarily and the stray shot had hit him through the back.

_Yeah_, he mused, _she wasn't always a great shot._

Spitting sand to the ground he raised his hands a little gingerly to shake the grit out of his hair.

"Well, guess it falls to me." Foster almost fell when the thresher maw thrashed close to the edge again. Hobbs shook his head, but Foster wasn't listening.

"Now you've pissed me off," he told the maw and snatched his rifle. He lurched to the edge and eye-balled the shot. There was no time to use the scope. It was too close and would be blurry.

He was gratified when he heard the maw screech in pain. He fist-pumped the air. "Ha! Hurts doesn't it?"

The thresher maw stopped its attack and he watched as it slithered back under ground. He turned and met Socks'angry glare. It was the older brother who wants to protect the younger brother look Foster hadn't seen in a very long time. "He's gone underground," he told him. He handed him his Mantis. "Do me a favor. If it comes up for air, keep it off me."

"You're not going down there." Hobbs said firmly and Foster broke into a grin.

"Your alternative?"

"I … I don't know." Hobb's faltered "I just need a minute to figure it out. Just g-"

"If we wait Socks that thing is gonna get up here and have us both for a snack – we do this now, I can _do_ this. I'm not that little kid anymore."

Hobbs opened his mouth to respond, closed it again and shook his head – he had just found him again, after years of searching, of never giving up hope he would see him again, he couldn't watch him get ripped to shreds by a thresher-maw. It should be him going, he was _trained _for this – this was what he _did_.

But there was no fighting with his injuries, the skin on his chest barely staying closed as he touched the paper thin blister gently "Alright." He relented "Be careful." They were out of options.

And time.

Foster expelled a breath he hadn't even known he was holding as he half-slid, half-rolled down the steep hill. He approached the nest cautiously, not wanting to join Admiral Kahoku's dead soldiers. He walked cat-footed to the center of the nest, heart thundering in his ears, pulse probably over 100, taking in breaths in small gasps, body shaking with terror. He had two grenades he kept on him at all times.

He stood there and he waited.

Above, still on the ledge Hobbs watched through the scope of the rifle, the target trained onto his little brother's face as he approached the nest. He lowered the rifle as Fos' feet pressed into the softer sand of the nest. He padded quietly, each step felt like it was pressing on Hobbs' chest and he shouldered the rifle, his breath catching in his throat as he began to sweat.

When nothing happened, Foster glanced around and listened for the rumbling that would give him a moment's notice before the maw burst out of the ground. It could even come up underneath him. He fought down bile and congratulated himself for coming up with that cheerful thought.

Still nothing.

Foster frowned. He began to walk more pronounced, hoping to lure the damn thing to the surface. That didn't work. He paused and scratched his head. He looked up for a moment, knowing he was in the scope and he gave Socks a one-finger salute. Finally, he reached the end of his patience. He began to jump up and down in one spot, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Come on up and play, you fucking maw!"

The shout echoed all the way back to Hobbs who cursed under his breath, snapping the sight to focus as he held his breath with expectation. _What a little nutter_, he thought grimly, but he also smiled – despite all this time apart, despite their different lives Foster didn't half remind him of himself a little.

"Come on, you sonvabitch!" Foster ran out of steam and stood panting heavily. He froze suddenly. Had there been a tremor? Was the damned thing playing with him? He felt the ground shift as something very large and long moved past him, ploughing up the sand, depositing it in dunes as the scaly, creepy maw traversed its territory.

"Fucking run you bawbag!" Hobbs screamed, for the first time in what felt like a tense fifteen minutes he felt his heart explode into rhythm in his chest.

"Closer!" Foster goaded the thing. He had a grenade in his hand. "You want me to waste one of these to get you to surface, don't you?" He pulled his gun with his other hand. He had taught himself to be ambidextrous. He fired several shots into the part of the thresher maw that was close. He found out it was a foot.

An armored foot.

He heard his shots ping off the plating.

"Dammit!" he fumed.

Something massive jabbed down at him and he narrowly avoided being skewered by a set of razor-sharp claws. He rolled, losing his pistol as the claws made another attempt. What made him drop his weapon was the infrasound emitting from the creature. It assaulted his eardrums and drove him to his knees.

Hobbs watched in horror as Fos dropped to his knees, all thought leaving him momentarily as he began to lope down the incline. The blister on his chest burst under the bandage, the aching relief mildly irritating as he skidded to a stop on the slope, slamming a foot into the sand and shouldering the rifle swiftly.

No more playing this time, it was time to show Foster what his big brother could really do with a rifle.

The rest of the maw bounded into the air, climbing to 30 meters. Foster quaked in fear. He found he couldn't move. He saw the maw open its gaping mouth and knew he would be covered in acid in a moment. He wouldn't be able to avoid it.

What a stupid way to die, he thought. Just found my brother and now I'm gonna lose him forever.

Foster called upon every vestige of courage he still possessed. He got to his feet and pulled his hand holding the grenade back as far as he could to give it the most power. The maw's mouth opened wider. Foster was close enough to see the acid foaming in the back of the creature's mouth. He waited until the maw lowered its head to either consume him or spew on him, and he lobbed the grenade into the open mouth.

At the same time, a shot rang out. Green blood from the creature's ruined eye rained down, covering him in its slime. Relief rang through him as he realized at least the creature's blood wasn't acid like its spit, followed by gagging at the horrible stench.

He yelled and dove to the side and rolled and rolled and rolled. The grenade went off and he kicked into a runner's start, weaving, dodging, puffing with exertion as he ran for the cliff. It was almost vertical and he couldn't get leverage.

He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the maw's head was half blown away, but it still wasn't dead. Fucker was tough. He vented a victory cry when he saw the maw wasn't able to spit now—instead the acid was running like drool out of the ruined side of its mouth.

He tried to get a foothold, but couldn't find leverage. The damn maw was headed his way. Foster knew he wasn't going to be able to outrun it. His feet scrambled at the ledge, gaining no purchase on the scraggy rock and sand. He tried a jump, to grab a sheer ledge of rock above him, but his height worked against him.

He turned, pressing his back to the rock as the Maw approached, ruined mouth opened wide and he realized with cold fear that it could still eat him – although the experience was likely to be more uncomfortable now most of its teeth were broken and jagged. He crossed his arms, bringing them up in front of his face as the stench of the beast assailed him and the gust of its motion pressed him into the rock in tense anticipation.

Then there was a hand; salvation in the form of a strong arm that paused briefly to slap his forehead before grabbing his hand and hauling him to the ledge above. It was Hobbs and as Foster's feet hit rock instead of sand gratefully, his older brother didn't let go, hauling him away from the shelf as they ran back up the incline together.

They stopped when they reached the ruined shuttle once more, both collapsing behind it as they wheezed and panted. Below the thresher maw roared, the watery gurgling sound making Hobbs grimace as he leaned forward, rubbing his ankle almost unconsciously.

"That should kill the fucker." He said, his breath still coming heavy as he glanced to Foster, he was pressed against the shuttle, his chin in his chest as he panted. He looked a little white. "Nice work." He added, testing his right shoulder. It felt a little easier now the medigel had kicked in. "Give it time to bleed some, I'll be able to get to the transmitter then." He laughed, soft and almost nervous as he shook his head. "At least you don't run like a girl anymore. Someone made you a man after all."

"I hate fucking maws!" Foster pressed a hand over his heart. It was beating too fast and he knew he stank from the beast's blood-it was all over him. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"For?" Hobbs prompted.

"For saving my life."

"Bet that hurt to say."

Foster rolled his eyes. "You have no idea." He pushed his back against the Corsair and stretched his legs out. "You have water?" he asked as he took a sip from the supply in his armor.

Hobbs nodded.

"We've got a 3 day supply if we ration carefully." Foster dipped his head down as a wave of weariness almost overcame him. He tried to make his voice casual as he met his brother's curious gaze. "What have you been up to these past 15 years is it?"

At Hobbs' scowl, he chuckled softly. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Chill, Socks. What happened in the past, it's all water under the bridge. I don't believe in mistakes. Mistakes made me who I am today."

"I'm not big on talking about that stuff Fos. You got to wonder how important it is when you're sitting on a baking planet waiting to melt to death with your stink only a few feet from me." He wrinkled his nose "Looks like I fared a mite better than you though, my armour outmatches yours even after the acid spit – damn man don't you know how to mod and upgrade?"

Foster shrugged. He scratched absently at the cut on his forehead. His nose wrinkled at the smell emanating from him. He'd have to power-wash his armor. "Okay, I tell you something about me and you tell me something about you. Deal?"

When he received a reluctant nod, he grinned. "I had to run away, okay? I never blamed you! I was a stupid kid." He laughed bitterly. "Okay, I blamed you at first, but there wasn't a whole helluva lot you could do. The matron sold me to…" He drew his knees up to his chin. "An asari who…"

Hobbs flinched, his little brother's words stopping short as he raised a hand to halt them "Sold you to an Asari? A human child? Why?" He shook his head "That's not even legal yet." Then he moved his shoulders "Which doesn't surprise me about the matron, but it does piss me off – even now."

"My foster parent wasn't a foster parent. Her name's Sha'ira. Ring any bells, bro?"

Hobbs swallowed with difficulty. He knew of the consort, knew the kind of establishment she ran on the Citadel too. He had never been himself, but some of the other marines he went to Arcturus with had – raved about it for days too – but damn he hated Asari with a passion. Such superiority over absolutely everyone, and so incredibly cold too.

His time on the Normandy had done little to change that opinion, despite Liara appearing sweet and kind, she still had that superiority complex that drove him mental, and that cool stare as though she were inspecting you rather than talking to you.

"I've… heard of her." He said carefully "Why would you be sold to a consort?"

"Rumor was she'd cleared it with the almighty piss-ant Council—wanted to expand her business to include males. I was going to be trained in…" Foster could feel his face flush with embarrassment and saw his brother's eyes widen. "Yeah…_that." _He shifted position, trying to get comfortable. "Anyway, to make a long story short, me and her assistant became friends and she helped me escape from the place. She gave me the creds to take a ship out to the Terminus system."

"And?" Hobbs probed almost disbelieving his brother would leave off at that point. He had been trained as a sex slave? Or was going to be? Had been? He shrugged internally, that didn't matter.

Foster scratched the cut on his brow and it started bleeding again. He sighed in irritation and swiped at it. "Huh?" he asked, then saw the way Socks was glaring at him. "Oh! Uh." He scratched his ear. "Um."

"You sound like _him_!" Hobbs snarled kicking a boot into the sand.

"Him who?" Foster circled his ear with his forefinger as if to point out he wasn't the only one who was nuts.

"Lieutenant fucking Alenko!"

Foster's brows rose almost to his hairline. "Your turn to tell me something. Whos' this Alenko? That's the second time I've heard the name."

There was a loud screech from below and Foster flinched. "Fucking maw," he muttered.

"It's…" Hobb's sighed, glancing to Foster carefully but he could see that there was no backing out of this now, a deal was a deal "A… guy." He concluded lamely "On the ship I'm… kind of working on. He just gets up my nose is all." He shook his head withering under his brother's imposing eyes "I can't explain it right Fos without getting into it, and you know it's really something I _don't_ want to get into. It involves a girl, a bad headache and a fucking long and tragic mistake I made that is coming round to bite me in the ass now." He sighed heavily "So, trained as a sex slave? You must be a wonder with the ladies no?"

Hobbs' words stung and Foster leaped to his feet, fisting his hands against his hips. "Hey, I wasn't a sex slave, jerk! I was there six months, and, yes, I was taught stuff, but, I never…had a client." He whirled, turning his back on his brother but Hobbs could see how red the back of his neck was. "Most of the time was spent learning alien dialects and—and mating customs." When he heard a snort, he turned, bent and picked up a handful of silicate sand with the intention of throwing it at Hobbs.

"You throw that at me and I will end you. Messed up arm and all." He warned and Foster hesitated, clearly thinking twice about it.

"Socks, we had a deal. You haven't told me squat." Foster crossed his arms over his chest and gave his brother his most intimidating look. It worked on mercs, pirates and other scum.

Hobbs smiled, enjoying how annoyed his brother was becoming. "Mating rituals huh?"

"Well?" Foster stamped a boot close to Hobbs' legs. "Give!"

"What do you want to know Beer?" He asked tiredly "That I spent most of my time looking for you? That I joined the alliance in the hope of gaining contacts to find you? That I met a girl who suckered me in and ripped out my heart almost at the same time? That now she's on a fucking ship with goddamned Leuitenant fucking tight-pants and I'm here – HERE! – so they can go on a date together? You want me to tell you how shit my life is right now? Because honestly – I think letting the maw come up here and grind me between its teeth for a while might actually improve the outlook for me. Seriously."

He sighed, rubbing his bandaged arm gingerly "Fucking women." Hobbs spat angrily "And maws." With a sigh he pulled himself to his feet, looking back to where the Thresher Maw still growled and writhed in the sand below "I honestly don't know which gives me more grief."

Foster came up behind him and laid a hand on his brother's bare shoulder that was starting to turn red from the sun. He stood there, squinting as the puke yellow sun peeking through sulphurous clouds. "Women, hands down." His voice changed to soft wonder. "You did all that for me?"

Hobbs sighed, but avoided his brother's gaze carefully as he looked on at the dying Thresher "I would do anything for you Beer." He said sincerely "You're my kid brother."

There was a roar from below and Foster pulled his Mantis, aimed the muzzle at the beast's last eye and crowed in exhausted glee when the maw rose high in the air, shrieking, drooling and dropped to the ground, shaking them on their perch so that they had to steady each other.

Foster put away his rifle. "Well, I took care of one. Women I can't help you with."

For a moment there was silence and then it was broken as Beer and Socks burst out laughing.

They sat on the ledge, dangling their legs over it, tossing rocks at the maw, who they knew was no longer a threat. Foster smiled, more content than he'd been in a long time. He always made the best of things, but things tended to go wrong six ways to Sundays when it came to his work.

"Where did you get that armour Beer?" Hobbs asked suddenly, but it had been bothering him that his brother was sitting in what looked like bits and pieces taken from scrap or the dead while he was sitting in top of the line merchandise. It in no way matched, green vambraces, a red shoulder plate, an official N7 breastplate which gave him pause – had Foster killed an Alliance agent? A Cerberus stripe and logo on his left arm

"I mean what is that? Foster and his Technicolor armour?" He joked "Cerberus? You do realise I'm an Alliance Operative right?" He smirked "And you're flashing _terrorist_ colours?"

Foster rolled his eyes. "I picked up the pieces after each job. It's…distinctive, don't you think?" He preened like a peacock and snickered. "I didn't kill anybody for it, if that's what you're thinking." His mouth dropped open. "_That's_ what you were thinking, wasn't it?

Hobbs shrugged, honesty was always the best policy he supposed "Crossed my mind." He said vaguely careful not to put an opinion into the statement so as not to spook his little brother into bending the truth from him.

Hobbs sighed, leaning back – planting his arms firmly in the sand behind him to support his weight as he squinted against the sun "So why V7? I mean I know of N7 – but there ain't no way you've been through the Academy – too short." He smiled and then inclined his head "Well actually I've seen shorter."

Foster snickered. "I picked this up on Tuchanka from Ratch. He's a merchant that has a store there. Guess he got it from an N7 prick or prickess." He yawned wide enough to crack his jaw. "It was pretty much as beat up then as it is now, but the N7 thing was a bug up my ass. I don't have any ties to the Alliance." He shrugged. "No offense. I just don't respond well to authority." He grinned that lop-sided smile. "Ratch used a tool to remove the N and replaced it with a V."

"That's illegal you know. Almost as illegal as defacing the Queen on a credit chit." He smiled crookedly "So what is the V for? Volupty?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Foster asked angrily, knowing he was going to hate the answer.

"Sexual pleasure." Hobbs grinned.

Foster blew him a raspberry. "Well, Vindex _is_ my name. Vindex Hobbins. Remember that loser?"

"Of course I know your name you idiot." Hobbs said, flaring at the use of the 'loser' word – god knows how many times that had been thrown at him by the fucking matron as he had beat the shit out of him on the floor of that damned orphanage. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, rolling the tired muscles in his neck carefully "You changed it though. I looked for a Vindex Hobbins, I looked for all kinds of names I thought you would use – then I just started trolling photos of criminals, gang members – checked the obituaries too, every week – every fucking dead face was never yours though." He moved a shoulder apologetically "Not that I'm not grateful you're alive. Just a little stung it took so long for us to find each other."

Foster frowned. "I had to change my name. I wasn't hiding from you, Socks. I was hiding from the Consort. She has influential people all over! So, I had to keep on the move. I was cook on a pirate ship." He made a face. "Hated that gig, but it netted me some credits. Won't work for slavers; in fact, started work as a merc so I could hunt one down. Bastard batarians!"

"Been there." Hobbs agreed "Batarians are tough mutherfuckers though. What about the consort though? Did she ever get her claws back into you?"

"Yeah," Foster drew out the word. "I earned enough to pay her what she paid the matron for me and went back to the Citadel to square things with her. She appreciated that I wanted to make good on the debt and canceled it and told me she'd take my name off the wanted list." A blush crept up from his neck into his face. "She…thanked me."

"She thanked you? An Asari only 'thanks' someone one way I've heard." Hobbs grimaced, the idea of his little brother rolling with an Asari – if they rolled at all, maybe it was more of a mind-meld type thing he shuddered – made his skin crawl. An Asari of all things! Hobbs was no xenophobe, but damn did he dislike Asari.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, will ya?" Foster licked his dry lips. "Let me tell you something, bro. Sha'ira's worth every credit clients pay to see her." His smile told Hobbs there was more to the story.

"Did she have tentacles?" He asked frowning "I've heard that too."

Foster broke contact and squared on his brother. "It's dawning on me I'm giving a helluva lot more than I'm getting. So, shutting up now."

He lapsed into a stony silence, taking sadistic pleasure in watching the thresher maw's death throes until the thing finally lay still. He wouldn't even look at Socks.

"Alright." Hobbs relented, sitting forward to dust his fingers idly in the sand between his spread legs. "I left the orphanage eventually." He said carefully "By some fucking miracle I ended up hanging on the coat-tails of an Alliance Officer who turned out to have pretty big ambitions." He smiled "He took a shine to me, or something like that anyway, because whenever he needed a job done I was his 'go-to' guy. Spent a lot of time as a brawler for cash in the underground batarian rings and doing these jobs for him. Eventually as he got bigger it turned into a full time job. All the benefits. I didn't ask for paycheques though, my payment was for him to find you." He sighed. "When that turned up nothing though begrudgingly I began to take the paycheques."

"My mentor, I guess you'd call him, was an ex-Alliance pilot and he taught me how to fly in return for room and board and keeping his ship in the air." He pointed sadly to the Corsair. "I've nursed her through so many battles and now a maw takes her out." He scuffed a boot in the sand. "Fucking maw!"

Hobbs looked at his baby brother giving him a wry smile "Well, technically I'm an assassin. That is what I do. _Normally_. Right now, I'm… helping a friend. Like a fucking pyjak." He shook his head "But it's … complicated." He struggled to find the right words as he looked away back out toward the skyline."It's going to get dark soon." He said firmly "Let's get to that transmitter now."

Slowly he got to his feet, lending a hand to Foster as he stood with him wearily.

"You want to talk about the girl?"

Hobbs sighed "To be honest you probably know her – or of her. Commander Shepard?"

"_The_ Commander Shepard?" Foster asked. "I thought he was a guy? The hero of Elysium? You hooked up with Shepard—_the _Shepard who saved the colony from slavers?" It looked like Foster turned on a switch behind his eyes as they changed to electric silver. "I was there!" He knocked on his chest. He whistled softly, memories of the past flitting over his face. "So _that _was Shepard! Your Shepard?" He pummelled Socks' bicep. "You varren, you!"

Hobbs laughed "It wasn't like that." carefully he planted feet to sand as he made his way unsteadily down the incline. "Although a lot of people think Commander Shepard is a guy. Trust me, she's _all_ woman." He snorted. "With the PMS temper to boot."

Foster started down after him, doing a bit better on the incline due to his height difference. "So you and her…?"

"Well, that's classified Beer. Even to you." He smiled. "You'll be happy to know though I got the matron locked up. Not that it did me much good – most of the damage had been done by then but the kids all got homes, the ones that were still alive anyway."

Fos made a gesture as if batting away bad memories. "Good thing. There's been more than once I thought about getting his head in my scope."

Hobbs nodded "Yeah it was rough. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy Beer. Not even bloody lieutenant Alenko. But you deal. You move on. I learned not to let deaths just slide over me, to make each one count for something – now I see it like I'm balancing the scales I guess. Each life I take as an assassin I'm taking a bad guy out of the world you know?" He moved his shoulders, feet sinking into the scorched sand as he reached the base of the nest "One less child killer – or that's what I tell myself. Makes it easier to do what I do."

He turned to Foster, eyeing the rifle on his back. "Have that thing ready in case we get another Thresher."

He was aware how heavy he walked suddenly as he started over the sand, there was no need to walk heavily this time though, the aim was not to attract a maw if there were any left in the vicinity. He eyed his quarry, the transmitter still stood barely, tilted to one side and he could see already it was damaged; which was good as it meant it had stopped transmitting the distress signal luring ships here – bad news because it meant they had even less chance of getting off this rock.

He glanced to the dying Thresher, its movements had ceased but he still heard the great lumbering breaths as its death dragged out. The smell made him gag, bile rising in his throat and he clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, looking back to Foster to see he had mirrored the gesture. Apparently the wind was carrying the stench his way too.

He crept closer, reaching a hand to the main console of the transmitter. It sparked and whined and he grimaced, opening the mains compartment instead and reaching skilled fingers inside, disconnecting the wires and booster they would need to repair the comm in his crashed shuttle. It was their best hope he decided with finality and he hadn't even seen the state of the wreck to know if it was even possible.

Foster was jittery as he scanned the landscape, trying to look everywhere at once. When Hobbs flicked his ear, he jumped and shot him a look that would've fried him to the spot. "I always hated when you did that," he growled.

"You love it really." Hobbs smiled "Shouldn't have such big ears then. At least if the transmitter idea doesn't work we can get some radar with those bad boys."

Foster tread after him, casting looks back until they reached the shuttle. "I can help. I've got an engineer's degree."

Hobbs turned to look at him, his expression darkening as he had the pervading sense of danger – like a spidey sense he mused, and glanced around the terrain suspiciously. He looked back to Foster who had taken the look as curiosity.

"I know, before you ask, why, if I have an engineer's degree did I become a merc?" He heaved a sigh. "Fact is. I liked the work. You make a difference doing what you do and ditto for me—in a lesser, spectacular, less paid way, of course."

"Working for Cerberus?" He said, unable this time to keep the distaste from his voice as he eyed the armour once more "Doesn't get much lower. Got to be honest."

"Don't get your Alliance issues in a bunch, bro." Foster put away his sniper rifle and propped himself against the shuttle, watching Hobbs work. "I worked for them when they were still Alliance Black Ops." He gestured back to the maw. "That thing on Akuze?" He shook his head. "When I learned they were behind it, I quit. Somebody only referred to as the Illusive Man was coming up in the ranks and I could tell, if he'd fund something like that, then Cerberus wasn't for me. They weren't xenophobes then. Rumors were running rampant they had started to perform sick experiments." He shuddered. "I got the hell outta there." He held out his hands as if he expected handcuffs to be slapped on his wrists. "You gonna arrest me now?"

"A lot of my friends died on Akuze." He said dangerously "I should arrest you, just for association." He shook his head turning back the incline once more "But I won't."

They walked a while in silence as the came upon the Alliance shuttle Hobbs had crashed and he rubbed the tender, sunburnt skin at the back of his neck gently.

"Alright." He said pointing to the door "See if you can get the Comm functional while I set up this booster." He sighed "Let's just hope we can reach her gorram ship with this."

Foster raised his eyebrows as he stepped inside the wreck carefully "You sure she'll come?"

Feigning offence Hobbs snorted "What's that meant to mean?"

"Just saying." Foster shrugged "You seem to be harbouring some ill feeling, so I was guessing things weren't going well there."

"No." Hobbs sighed "No, the problem isn't Abigail-"

"Oh! First name basis, this is more than I thought!"

Hobbs leaned inside slapping an open palm on his brother's head "Shut it." He said with a small smile "Don't trash talk Shepard. It's not like that. It wasn't a one-night wonder alright, she's classy." He cleared his throat, embarrassed at having let so much meaning slip out as he leaned back out of the shuttle, spreading the wires and electrics on the roof of the shuttle to work under the fading sunlight.

"She means something to you?" Foster's voice sounded from inside the shuttle and he heard a clunk and thud as he began to remove parts of the dash. When Hobbs didn't answer he felt the persistent jab of a boot in his shin and hissed, delivering a harsh kick of his own back to his brother's boot poking out the battered and broken shuttle door where he lay across the seats tinkering.

"I told you before. That's classified." He said hotly dropping to sit with the tech on the ground instead. The heat of the sun was giving him a headache. "Besides I'm still waiting on information about this Asari. You don't get to 'embrace eternity' and then not talk about it." He chuckled "Even when they're having sex they're giving you orders." He mused "Embrace Eternity!" Then he chuckled "I suppose it wouldn't have the same effect if they said please after. And thank you." He shook his head amusing himself as he waited for the answer.

"I don't embrace eternity and tell." Foster set his jaw as he heard his brother laugh.

"For someone who hates authority you sure don't mind taking it like a bitch in the bedroom." Hobbs joked whistling as he worked.

Foster threw a burned out circuit and it bounced off the back of Hobbs' head. When he whirled around with an irate look on his face, Hobbs got the finger and a cheeky grin.

"I'm curious, does that mean you're Bisexual?"

From inside the shuttle he heard Foster make an exasperated sound. "What?! How the…how does that make me bisexual?"

"Well," Hobbs reasoned, readying the booster. "Technically you're having sex with as much man as woman with an asari with them being non gendered." He smiled at the uncomfortable silence that followed.

"Just…bite me, Socks!"

Foster shook his head as Hobbs continued to chuckle softly. Then he heard something else. He jack-knifed up on the seat and climbed out of the shuttle. "Did I just hear what I thought I heard?" He gazed up at the sky. "Shepard must've missed you, bro. Stinko-Lenko didn't cut it. She's sent a shuttle. We're saved!"

Hobbs smiled, Stinko-Lenko didn't cut it was a nice idea, and suddenly he was feeling a bit more confident about the future as he shook his head at his little brother.

"I said don't trash talk her." Hobbs said dubiously. "But don't lay that kind of credit on her either. She's not the brightest spark in the circuitry – I doubt she'll have figured out we're stuck yet." But he laughed nevertheless as a sliver of hope pushed into his consciousness – _thank fuck for Shepard_, he thought fondly.

"You're saying Shepard's a dim bulb, because that's my take on what you just said. Bet if she heard that she'd trounce your ass." He grinned. "I'd buy tickets to see that."

"She could try." Hobbs smiled "Trust me, been there done that, and got the t-shirt somewhere too."

When Foster raised an eyebrow at him Hobbs simply shrugged.

Hobb's scowled, the sound of a shuttle roaring into the atmosphere almost a blessing as he raised his eyes to trace the approaching vehicle. His elation lasted right up until he saw the logo on the side door and then his face fell.

"Oh shit." He grumbled "Cerberus."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Stranded Chapter Three  
Authors: Jagespages and DinkyMew  
Game: Mass Effect (one)  
Disclaimer: Bioware own all content and characters relating to the Mass Effect franchise. Abigail Shepard and Original character Argyle Hobbins belong to DinkyMew. Original character of Foster belongs to the amazing Jagespages and the Swagger Vasa Chronicles series.  
Characters Features: OC Hobbs and Foster – some Shepard and Kaidan later!

Author's dedication: _**For Nev, because when it gets dark enough you can see the stars – love T-bird and JJ, x**_

Foster gave him a questioning look, almost shrugging his shoulders a little as he followed his brother's gaze to the approaching shuttle.

"They're not so keen on Alliance-types." Hobb's said, pulling his pistol free from the holder at his hip once more "Especially operatives." He smiled "You think you can talk them out of killing us there Beer?

Foster raised his sniper rifle as the shuttle door opened and fired, quickly allowing for wind speed and the heat sink, he fired again. Through the scope he saw two heavily armoured figures fall.

"Two down," he stated calmly. "Cerberus and I aren't on speaking terms, bro." He got a pained look on his face when another shuttle, followed by another came through the clouds. "Figures. They always come in squads."

"We need to get to cover fast, we're exposed standing like this." Hobbs said gathering the tech he had managed to salvage and diving into the shuttle quickly. He attached the wires, pressing the Comm in hope as it crackled and sparked.

"I don't have comms." He grunted, instead opening his omnitool "But I can maybe get a message to her omnitool receiver." He connected the two quickly typing a blurry of words in a message before firing it off praying Shepard would get it.

"It's sent." He said vaguely, not willing to give them false hope yet "We need to find cover before those shuttles land."

"All we got for cover is my ship. We have the advantage at this height." Foster said in a hurry as they moved behind the wreck once more.

Another shuttle appeared, this one larger and something huge was dropped. It was a mech. Foster's eyes almost popped out of his head. "What the hell is that thing? I've never seen a mech like that! Have you?"

"That is a stolen Alliance prototype." He frowned "And we're in shit. Big shit." He clarified after a beat "That thing is shielded Beer, and those canons…" He shook his head "This does not look good."

As if to demonstrate the sheer power of those canons the mech shot one off, the blast of the rocket streaking backwards as it ploughed into the rock face of the ledge they were on. The foundation shook and Hobb's grabbed for Foster in an attempt to get him behind cover, but his brother was too quick, darting from his grasp and raising his rifle again.

Just as he fired a hail of gunfire sailed over them and this time they did duck behind the shuttle, Hobb's wincing as the tender skin on his sunburnt back touched the roasting hot metal of the shuttle panels.

"They'll try to keep us pinned down and let that thing get closer so it can take us out," Foster shouted over the constant firing. He fired another head shot and grinned when he saw the operative fall next to the maw's corpse. "We have to take it out before it gets close enough to target my ship!"

"Take out a mech?" Hobbs frowned "Sure. Go ahead. I'll just wait here." Off the look Foster gave he smiled, pulling his pistol free and turning around the side of the shuttle to fire.

Each shot hit a target, dropping them to the ground easily and he turned back, moving his shoulders as Foster looked at him.

"Assassin." He said simply. "Didn't get the title for looking pretty Beer."

Foster snorted and treated his brother to an exaggerated eye-roll. "Assassin, huh? You know ass is in that word twice?"

Hobbs frowned "Yeah?" He asked and then nodded "Well… so's your face."

"Stay here." Hobbs said holstering the gun once more and when Foster went to argue he pointed a finger this time, right in his face "Stay here. When you see the moment I need you to fire. Be ready and give me some damn cover from the soldiers."

Foster gave him a sloppy salute. "Aye-aye, SIR!"

With that he got to his feet, still squatting low, rolling his shoulders as he removed the bandages carefully that his brother had applied earlier. His skin was still blistered and sore, but the rest of it was heading that way too anyway and the fabric was only serving as a distraction – to accomplish what he planned he had to have no distractions.

Pulling his pistol free again he gave Foster one last look, blowing sweat from his top lip as it ran freely down his face. "Beer." He said and waited until his little brother looked at him, both ducking slightly as bullets pinged a little too close for comfort "Love you kiddo."

Without waiting for a response he got to his feet, his omnitool whirring to life as an orange bar erupted from it, spreading and flattening into a great shield that he held like a Roman Centurion.

With a roar he took off down the incline, legs unsteady at first as feet sank into sand that gave way and drifted, but he soon got the pace right. Bullets sparked off the omni-shield and he fought to keep his focus on the mech as it aimed for him.

He heard a sniper shot, the soldier nearest him hitting the ground hard and spraying blood over his boots as he narrowly dodged the projectile rocket fired at him. It exploded some distance behind him, the heat blast making his skin ache further as he pressed the advantage, taking the range from the mech in swift strides and heard the mechanical clunk of engines as it switched to a different gun mode.

Now he was right in its melee range. His area of expertise. Dodging one huge arm he ducked, bringing a boot onto the sturdy metal knee of the Atlas and launching himself up toward the glass front. In the same instant he snapped the omnitool shut he grabbed the frame of the glass front, driving the butt of his gun into the glass again and again as it splintered, cracked and at last smashed.

The agent inside was heavily armoured, his face obscured by a mask as Hobbs pointed the damaged pistol at his head. It wouldn't fire, and in that moment the agent had him as he came face to face with a Cerberus pistol.

The sound of a sniper shot made him flinch – as did the blood spray that spattered his face - thinking the agent had fired, but he hadn't – he just sat there and then slowly slumped forward, blood gushing from a wound in his throat.

Reaching inside the shattered glass Hobb's undid the catch and opened the front, the body of the agent falling to the sand with a dull thud.

Just as swift he climbed inside, not taking the time to strap in as he fired missiles at the approaching shuttles. It hit the first one, making it skid sideways and crash into the others as they plummeted toward the scorched sand below.

The soldiers already in the desert turned their attention back to him –having been focused on Foster and began firing at the Atlas. He had no cover or shield now and cried out as a bullet came through the shattered glass and ripped into his shoulder, another in his side.

Raising the great mechanical arm he batted the soldiers aside – hoping it was enough to at least knock them out or break something, but there armour was heavy and he couldn't be sure.

Pressing a hand to his side he felt the hot rush of blood, slick against his fingers and searched for a medigel pack in the dash of the atlas.

Foster had watched the tableau unfold, watched his brother's amazing skills, watched him climb into the monster mech. Socks took out the shuttles and now he was being flanked by the remaining Cerberus bastards.

"Stay away from my brother!" Foster yelled at the top of his lungs. He scoped the cockpit of the mech and saw the blood—his brother hurt, maybe dying. So much blood! He could see it through the rifle's scope. He saw Socks hold his side. Blood was spattered all over the cockpit. _Don't let it be his! _He chanted it like a mantra as he rushed to the wing of his ship that was still intact. He grabbed his tool kit and loosened the machine gun from its moorings. He dragged it around the ship and pushed it to the edge of the ledge, setting the stocks into the ground. He had no computer to aim or fire it, but it could be switched to manual. He sat on the ground, legs splayed wide, arms holding the heavy gun and hit the firing button.

At first, he was way off target and he had to stop firing to adjust. He pushed the button again and grimaced as the machine gun rattled off a burst of cryo rounds into the midst of the charging Cerberus operatives. He braced the machine gun with his knees and used his Mantis to take out one frozen statue after another, seeing ice chips explode into the air, eliminating each threat to his brother as coldly as the cryo rounds that still stitched the ground. Some of the more heavily armored troops received a headshot. Some, wearing helmets resisted his shots, since he was unable to penetrate the reinforced shields they erected.

"Dammit!" The machine gun spewed its last bullet and there were still too many of them alive.

A bullet slammed into Foster's shoulder and he cried out in agony. His shields had shorted out early on in the battle. The bullet must be a polonium round, he thought, feeling his suit dispense medigel to the area. "That tears it!" he spat. He seized the shotgun he only used when carnage was required from the ship and raced down the ledge, firing it, then allowing for its cool-down while he used his pistol.

He shot a Cerberus op in the face from close range. "I said get the fuck away from my brother!"

Hobbs glanced Foster's approach, his pain and fading consciousness overwhelmed by immediate alert and concern for his brother's wellbeing as he brought his feet up clumsily kicking the front of the mech open once more. He fell out – rather gracelessly – and landed on his knees, forcing himself to his feet as he brought up his omni-shield once more.

An agent near to him turned, raising the gun to bash in his skull and Hobb's responded by battering him back with the shield, using its edge to crush his skull into the sand with a pop that sprayed blood and brain matter everywhere.

Turning he saw Foster fast becoming overwhelmed and cried out just as the sound of a ship roaring into atmo drowned the noise out. Above them the sleek hull of the Normandy came through the clouds, and from the open shuttle door Hobbs watched the Mako drop to the sand with a crash.

Immediately it began firing, taking out the Cerberus agents like fodder and he rushed forward, grabbing his brother and pulling him down beside him behind the omni-shield.

When the remaining agents lay dead the door to the Mako opened and Shepard stepped out, the breeze catching her long hair as she pressed a hand to her hip and smiled warmly.

"You called?!" She asked, dropping from the Mako and walking toward them.

"Whoah." Foster muttered beside him and Hobb's slapped the back of his head mildly.

"Fucking eyes to the ground Beer. I saw her first." Hobbs grunted, getting to his feet slowly, unable to stop himself gripping his wounded side however much he wanted to put on a brave show for Shepard.

"Hobbs!" Shepard cried and when he raised his eyes again she was running toward him, her face a pale, suddenly worried, vision of concern. She stopped next to them, her hand coming to his side as she looked at the wound there.

"Where are your clothes?" She asked incredulously and he laughed, low and painful as she stepped under his arm supporting one side of him while Foster took the other.

"You know me Tempy." He grunted as they began to walk back toward the Mako "I like to get naked."

"Oh Hobbs." She laughed and then she peered behind him to the stranger "Who are you?" She asked, her brow knitting together "Sorry – I don't recognise you; are you one of Admiral Kohoku's men?"

Hobbs chuckled "Not in that armour."

Foster smiled, raised Shepard's hand to his lips and brushed the back of her gauntlet. "I was on Elysium, Commander Shepard. You saved my life that day."

"Yeah yeah," Hobbs muttered "She's a big gorram hero – we get it, enough with the touchy feely."

Shepard was a little flustered, then she caught a whiff from him and her eyes watered. "Oh, well, you're welcome, but that didn't answer my question."

Foster noticed her nostrils quiver and he suspected the cause. "Sorry about the smell. I have thresher maw blood all over me."

Shepard had noticed the huge beast when Joker had brought her to the site. "You killed that thing? Impressive!"

"Hardly alone!" Hobbs huffed "I think you'll find I was quite integral to the taking down of that Thresher." He added dejectedly.

"I don't recognise you from Elysium." Shepard said completely ignoring Hobb's comment "Are you Alliance?

"No." Hobbs said hotly "No he's not. His name is Foster. Foster, this is Abigail Shepard. Alright? Now if you are both quite done with introductions I'm bleeding to death here."

Abigail rolled her eyes, smiling as she noticed the same look on Foster's handsome face "Relax Hobbs." Abigail soothed him "I'm sure when you retell this you can make it seem completely epic."

As they approached the Mako she touched the comm in her ear and radioed for the Normandy to come in and land. A few moments later the roar of the ship drowned out all else as the Normandy slowed descended to land on the sand dunes. With a smile Shepard ducked from under Hobb's arm, letting the full weight fall on Foster's shoulders and he stumbled right as they got to the Mako.

Shepard gestured to the _Normandy _that was settling on the ground. "I'll see to the Mako." She touched her right ear and transmitted another message.

A moment later a turian and a krogan came down the ramp to the garage. The turian nodded to the krogan and strode over to Foster and picked him up in a fireman's carry; the krogan picked up Hobbs, carrying him like a baby in his arms.

"You tell anyone about this Wrex." Hobbs whispered loudly "And I will kill you."

Wrex looked down on him, his face splitting into a maniacal grin as he laughed long and throaty up the ramp and into the ship.


	4. Chapter 4

Immediately Foster was taken to the medbay where a motherly, gray-haired doctor who was introduced as Dr. Chakwas examined him and told him he was lucky. The shot had missed any vital organs and would barely leave a scar. She treated him with a medigel patch and a pain killer.

"What about Socks?" he asked, wide-eyed, sitting up on the table, trying to see his brother where the krogan had deposited on another exam table.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Uh, I mean Operative Hobbins?"

Her expression cleared. "Oh, you mean Hobbs?"

"If that's what he's going by these days, yeah, what about Hobbs?"

"He'll be fine, young man. You both were very lucky." She glanced back to the bed in the far corner of the room where his brother lay motionless. He was strapped into some kind of monitor, the monotonous noise of the heart trace a welcome break to silence as Dr Chakwas continued to scan him quietly with her omnitool.

"Yeah, that's us. Born under a lucky star." He gazed around the medical room. It was really small. "So, he'll be okay?"

"Yes, your brother will be fine." She smiled as if she shared a secret.

Foster's mouth gaped open. "How…?"

"DNA doesn't lie. His was on file and now so is yours, although, extensive as our database is, it took several seconds before your DNA fingerprint popped up." She patted his shoulder when she saw his agitation. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. Dr./patient privilege." She smiled. "Besides, it was obvious from your concern you have ties with him and since I know he's not gay and, according to your colourful record unearthed in the Alliance database, I am pretty sure you aren't either." She shrugged her thin shoulders. "The Consort speaks very highly of you. She included commendations in your record, which has been expunged over and over." She put a finger to her lips. "That, too, can be our little secret. Now, you get some rest. Hobbs is resting comfortably and will for another hour."

"If he needs blood, I can donate some."

She passed her hand over his head as if ruffling his hair. "Don't worry so much, Vindex, is it?"

He made a face. "Foster. I go by Foster."

"Well, Foster, the commander came by and brought you a change of clothes. She also said you might need a shower." She pointed to a small cubicle. "Feel free to partake. I'll let you have some privacy."

Dr. Chakwas patted him on the shoulder again and then she left the medbay. Foster sat up and swung his legs over the side of the exam table, his feet contacting the cold deck. He spotted the stack of clothing on the doctor's console.

He unfastened his stinking armor and shoved it into a bag that had been provided, sealing the bag. He stripped off his black undersuit and walked into the shower. Sweat,maw blood, human blood, dirt, grit, sluiced off him and he sighed in relief when the stink was replaced with the pleasant deodorizer as the air blowers came on and dried his refreshed body.

He wrapped a towel about his waist and strode from the shower to check on Socks when he heard a voice say breathlessly, "Oh, by the goddess!"

Liara paused, her hand clamping over her mouth as the words spilled out before she could stop them. She blinked, once, twice but no the man was not going anywhere – she actually _was_ looking at a half naked man in the medbay.

"I'm…" She felt her face burn as she shook her head bashful "I'm so sorry!"

Despite the apology though she couldn't draw her eyes from him. He was lean but his stature belied the muscle that tensed beneath flesh, the strength in his arms and his physique as he paused, looking at her for the first time. His eyes were blue – and suddenly that is all she could think about. Those blue, blue eyes as they held hers unwavering.

She let a breath out and made to turn and leave.

Foster was enjoying the view. He knew she was young—best guess, 100, barely out of her teens. She was a beautiful shade of blue with matching blue eyes that held an innocence he knew was of the uninitiated. She had facial markings humans would call eyebrows, but he knew they weren't—just as he knew instead of hair, she had semi-flexible, cartilage based scalp crests. He also knew if he stroked them from the base to the tip she would scream in ecstasy.

He smiled. "Sorry. I should've called out before I came out of the shower." He sauntered over, keeping one hand tight on the towel so it didn't slip. "Foster. Miss?"

"Dr. Liara T'soni." She was turning a darker shade of blue and he found it adorable that she was trying to look anywhere but at him.

He saw tears glinting in her eyes. He frowned. "Give me a minute. I'll be right back." He grabbed the clothing, went through into the back room, dressed and rushed back to the room, hoping she'd still be there. She was and she was crying.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly.

"What? I…" She sniffed forlornly. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like it." He crossed to her and gently pulled her into his arms. "There, there," he said in a soothing voice. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

She reared her head back so she could meet his eyes. Hers was beautiful as was her voice. She was an exotic mix of innocence and unknowing seduction. "But it is! I…" She sounded mortified. "I made a fool of myself over Commander Shepard!"

Foster didn't know what to say. "O—kay. So, you find her attractive. Stand in line."

"But I…I don't want to stand in a line, and, and if I do, I want to be first in line, and…oh..I don't know what I want!"

"Did she lead you on?"

"No! She's been so nice to me and, and I know she and Lt. Alenko have grown close, but I thought I had a chance."

"Have to allow for tastes, and, in this case, Shepard's taste is all in her mouth."

Liara looked puzzled. "I do not understand."

"Just that maybe she's just not the right one for you," he said gently. One hand slid up her neck and touched one of her crests. Her eyes widened. "Maybe some lucky person you just met is."

Liara moaned softly as his hand continued to stroke her head. "I…that feels nice."

"Like me," he whispered, lowering his head to capture her lips.

"What the…" The sound of Hobb's voice made them both flinch and Liara started back with a jump, spinning to see the Operative as he propped himself up on an elbow "You've been on this ship five minutes Foster." He said firmly "Five minutes."

He had been asleep on a bed at the far end of the med bay, but now he was wide awake. He swung his legs round, nausea sweeping over him as he swallowed hard, touching fingers to his bare chest where the flesh was beginning to heal.

"And you should know better blue." He said shaking his head, reaching for the shirt that had been left for him at the bottom of the hospital bed – he recognised it immediately. Shepard must have left it for him because the red sweater was one she had stolen from him back when they lived together on Arcturus. Was she giving it back to him? That stung more than it was supposed to and when he raised his eyes to the pair still standing in close proximity he knew he couldn't hide the pain in them.

Liara excused herself, rushing past Hobbs and back into her chosen quarters at the far end of the med bay.

As the doors slid closed once more Hobb's shook his head "What the hell was that?" He asked incredulously, slipping the sweater over his head easily. When his brother didn't answer and instead shrugged his shoulders with a smile he shook his head.

"Come on Fos, that was… well it wasn't right anyway! Gross!" He pulled a face turning from his brother as he faked a wretch "You know that shit freaks me out Fos, I hate fucking Asari."

Foster's mouth twitched "Then don't fuck them."

Hobb's sighed, shaking his head exasperated "You hungry?"

As they entered the mess together they received a few glances from the crew busy eating but neither brother cared enough to say anything or stop to engage anyone as they crossed to where the chef was ladling out lunch.

Hobb's grabbed a tray, sliding it onto the counter and waiting as a plate was deposited before he collected cutlery from the nearby dispensers and bottled water. He gave the chef a curt nod before slipping into a seat at the nearest table and waited for Foster to join him.

As they tucked into lunch together the atmosphere was quite amiable, chatter drifted from table to table and the brothers shared a few jokes over their meal, enjoying each other's company. It was then Shepard appeared, not entering the mess but skirting the edge of it and Foster could see Hobb's eyes follow her as though drawn by a magnet.

Hobbs straightened, wiping his mouth as though he were about to say something when an unfamiliar voice called out.

"Shepard!"

Immediately Hobb's dipped back to his lunch as though he had been focusing on it the whole time as a tall, dark haired marine entered. He moved to Shepard, whispering something in her ear that made her smile and Foster could tell by the set of his brother's jaw and the sudden change in his mood and demeanour this was Kaidan Alenko. Or Stinko as they had dubbed him.

Shepard nodded to him, smiled and there was a touch of hands that would have been missed by someone less observant, but Hobb's saw everything. And damn did he _feel_ everything. He pushed food around his plate as Shepard left, heading to her quarters and then at last pushed the tray away.

"Suddenly not hungry." He said to Foster "I'll be in the shuttle bay when you're done." With that he got to his feet almost walking right into the lieutenant as Kaidan was making his way to collect lunch.

Foster watched his brother slink off and a storm gathered in his eyes. He picked up his tray and moved over to where Stinko was sitting, a bemused smile on his face. Foster cleared his throat. "Commander Alenko, isn't it?" Foster oozed charm.

"No, uh, it's Lt Alenko, actually."

"Name's Foster. Mind if I sit with you?"

Kaidan nodded amiably. Foster took the seat across from him and took a bite. "Pretty decent grub on a frigate." He said, making small talk, luring the man into a false sense of security.

"Abigai-the Commander takes care of her crew." Kaidan said awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck at the misstep over title.

Foster watched him with a trained eye; he was a people-reader and he could see that the lieutenant wasn't a bad guy already. He was clean-cut; probably a poster boy for the Alliance at some point and the way his dark gaze moved over the crew protectively he could tell he took his job seriously.

It wasn't his fault that his very presence killed his big brother a little but Foster didn't care. He didn't know the whole story – sure – but his brother had the girl first, and that bothered him more than a little.

Foster waited until the mess was full and then sprang up, indignation flashing in his eyes. "Hey, did you just try to feel me up?" He made his voice loud so that it would carry to everyone present.

Kaidan looked at him, startled by the accusation. "Of course not!" He cried, his face contorting from confusion to embarrassment as he got out of the his chair, spreading his hands in a placating manner and taking a step back from Foster.

"Look, pal, I don't care which way the dick swings as long as it doesn't swing _my_ way." Foster made a show of seizing his tray and stomped over to the chef and handed it to him.

He saw the looks of speculation in the crews' faces as he sauntered from the mess. Hobbs was leaning against the elevator, a look of pure glee on his face. He had a toothpick in his mouth and it twitched when he smiled. "That was lewd, rude and crude, Beer."

"Wasn't it?" Foster said cheerfully.

The elevator arrived and the door opened. They stepped in together and high-fived.

"Masterful!" Hobbs said. "Fucking hate that prick."

"It's not like you to let someone get so far under your skin." Foster observed carefully and Hobb's sighed. He knew he was prying again, and he still felt reluctant to talk about it, but now he was standing in his old sweater, still smelling like Shepard to boot he was finding it hard to keep the pain from his eyes and his voice as he moved his shoulders.

"It's fine." He said, chewing the toothpick carefully "I'm fine Fos." He turned his gaze from him, hitting the button for the cargo bay again in a vain attempt to hurry the elevator up.

When he looked back Foster was still watching him and he rolled his shoulders "You ever been in love Fos? I mean in love love, real love – can't breathe when you see them in love?"

"Came close...once." He scoweld at the pain in his brother's eyes. "I'm a merc with one foot ahead of the law. Sha'ira can only purge my record so many times." He shook his head. "Tell me, bro," he added softly.

"I fucked up." Hobbs said quietly "I had her, she was _mine_, and I fucked it up." He shook his head "Do you know what that is like? To know absolutely you are responsible for the worst wound you've ever felt? It's like emotional suicide. And I try…" He swallowed, pausing to stick knuckles in his eyes as he felt them prick with tears. When he was sure they were stemmed he raised his head once more and smiled "You know what. It doesn't matter Fos. I'm fine."

The elevator pinged and he stepped out into the shuttle bay giving a polite nod to Wrex as he crossed to the punch-bag that hung in the far corner. Without a word he pulled the sweater over his head, wanting to keep her scent on it as long as possible – but he wasn't about to say that to anyone in here! – and sat it on the tool bench as he turned to the bag angrily.

He launched a punch into the leather, listening to the calming squeak of the chain above – it was like balm for his soul, as was the jar of pain that rippled through his arm as he lay a barrage of blows to the bag the whole time flashing hot and cold with images of Kaidan.

This was his element, as he danced and moved throwing punches he could sink back through the years – back to a time when his life had been simpler.

As he sank into his centre he was back at the gym where it all started – heat and muscle and sweat, his fists bound, biting into the leather with each brutal hit – his body a shining mass of fluid, toned muscle; responses piqued, senses alert as his heart thundered in his ears.

It didn't matter who they had put in front of him, if the money was right it could have been death itself and he would have taken the wager. He would have paid the highest price if it meant getting his brother back. And now he was here, the years of brawling for cash – charming his way up the Alliance ranks for snippets of information were far behind him.

But the fighter never left.

He was so focused he didn't even see Shepard until she was standing right next to Foster, her arms folded under her breasts as she watched him silently.

He paused, stopping the swinging bag with fingertips as he looked at her, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He could tell by the expression on her face she was thinking back to when she had first met him – to the times she had watched him work out, sitting at the ringside – wiping the blood from his battered face and asking him why he put himself through it.

"Tempy?" He asked, licking his lips "Something wrong?"

"Can you lay off Kaidan please Hobbs?" She asked, almost earnestly.

Hobbs glanced to Foster, his mouth twitching as he moved his shoulders "I will if you will." He grinned. Foster bristled, he knew that smile all too well – they had been kids when he used it before, at the funeral of their parents whenever someone asked if they were ok – that smile would rear its head. It was armour – nothing more.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head tiredly as she glanced sideways to Foster "So, you're a younger version I hear?" She smiled "Handsome too. Looks like he got the good genes." She said pointedly and Hobbs launched a vicious blow to the punchbag in response.

Foster winced when he saw the wound on Hobbs' shoulder break open and start to bleed. He took Shepard by the arm and guided her over close to the Mako. He gestured to Garrus who stood vigently beside it, "Do you mind giving us some privacy?"

Garrus' mandibles clicked and Foster knew how close he was to annihilation because the turian's reptilian gaze was riveted on his hand that was on Shepard's arm. She smiled at the turian. "It's okay, Garrus."

"If you need me, call." Garrus strode away, every line of his body fluid and powerful.

Shepard pointedly stared down at Foster's hand that was turning her creamy skin dark, imprinting his fingers. Sighing, he released her. "Sorry I don't usually manhandle women."

She gazed at him through her lashes. Gods, she was beautiful! For a moment he lost his train of thought. "Look, Shepard, it's your decision to move on, but do you have to jam it down my brother's throat every opportunity you get? Do you have to make him feel lower than a Tuchanka inch worm? Do you even have a clue how much this hurts him? Do you care?"

"Foster, I'm cutting you a great deal of slack because I know what you just said came from your heart, but it's misguided. You evidently only know his side of the story."

"What?" he asked hotly, now drawing the interest of the huge krogan who stood near a bank of lockers. "He told me he messed up with you. You don't have to keep making him pay for it over and over. He almost lost his fucking life to do you a favor so you could spend some time with the new man in your life!" Foster wanted to punch something.

He settled for the Mako and stared at his hand-at the bruised and bleeding knuckles before turning his seething gaze on her.

"Enough!" She slashed her hand through the air. "Knowing Hobbs, I'm sure he didn't tell you everything. He has a tendency to leave out major facts when he talks."

"I don't need to know everything. I know _him_! It's been over 15 years, but I still know him and you, lady..."

Three talons closed over his shoulder and he was turned about and made to stare into furious blue eyes of a very pissed off turian. "Nobody talks to Shepard like that while I'm around. Back off, or..."

Hobb's paused, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder as he glanced over to where Foster was about to be manhandled by Garrus. He had no beef against the turian, but he better get his claws off his brother. This was all his fault, he knew he should have just kept his mouth shut.

"Garrus?" He called and the turian paused, glancing over his shoulder to where Hobbs stood "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Shepard replied tersely and then gave the turian a hard look "It's fine Garrus." She said firmly "Really."

When he released Foster she turned her attention back to him "For your information Foster, Hobbs did a lot more than mess up with me ok. He almost got me killed. He left me stranded on a batarian station while he ran off to play hero for the Alliance – and a lot more, which I'm not going to share with _you_." She shook her head "I did move on." She said firmly "And so has he, it's been nine years Foster. _Nine_. And he has had countless women come in and out of his life since then. His problem is with Alenko – because he can't stand another man being near me. I am not a fucking _possession_." She raised her gaze as Hobbs joined the fray "His supposed pain is nothing to do with having feelings for me." She said firmly, her voice steel as she looked directly to Hobbs "It's just bruising on his ego."

Foster scowled. "I haven't seen him in longer than that and I know him better than you do, lady! " He put his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, trying to calm down his temper. "He almost cost you your life? You almost cost him his! Why? Because you're after Saren, out to save the galaxy, am I right?" Foster's slim frame shook. "You may have moved on and maybe Alenko's a stand-up guy. He's safe, dependable." Foster's eyes blazed. "But don't try to minimize my brother's feelings. Tell me it's his pride, his ego. Balls!" He turned and kicked one of the Mako's tires and pain shot through his foot.

She started to say something and he cut her off. "I call that even, Commander. As to his women, he lost the love of his life and when that happens you look elsewhere - because just maybe you can take away the pain when you spend time in another woman's _willing_ arms. Maybe you can regain your self-esteem when a woman looks at you like the world revolves around you." His voice broke on a sob. "And you don't do it to use or degrade them. You do it because it helps you be able to look at the man in the mirror and know he's not the shit you think he is. You do it because if you don't you might take your Stinger and plant a round in your head. You do it to help you survive, because losing her was the turning point in your life, when you lost your true north, when life ceased to matter."

Shepard made to speak, her mouth opening as her eyes blazed cold fury but something in his words must have sunk in, because she sank back. Her mouth closing as she looked to Hobbs who was standing beside his brother – and God didn't they look alike.

Suddenly she didn't seem to care who was winning the arguments because when she raised her eyes to Hobbs' there was something there that was completely broken in the man and forced her to close her eyes as she rubbed a hand to her temple.

"I'm…" She swallowed her voice cracking as she forced the words out "I'm sorry." She said slowly, her blue eyes coming back to Foster almost gratefully "I'm sorry." She repeated a bit firmer this time.

"Look." Hobbs interjected "This is between me and Tempy." He raised a hand when his brother tried to interject "I appreciate it bro, I do, but this isn't the place." He said quietly, casting a furtive glance to both Garrus and Wrex who were standing nearby listening and trying to look as though they weren't.

Hobbs took a deep breath, forcing fingers through his hair as he glanced to the Commander "I'm sorry." He said at last "I'm not feeling quite right – must be the concussion." He gave her a weak smile "Did you come down here for something other than breaking my balls?"

Shepard folded her arms, turning back to Foster "Your ship." She said simply "You should know I had the Alliance salvage it for you, it's being taken back to the Citadel for repairs."

For a moment anger was paramount in Foster's eyes and then the silver returned to electric blue, the flush on his neck and face cooled. His lips quirked, a brow rose.

"My ship? The Corsair? I didn't think she could be salvaged."

At his megawatt grin, the situation was suddenly defused. Shepard could feel the garage atmosphere change to a more agreeable one. She saw Wrex and Garrus change their stances to more relaxed ones. She blew out a pent-up breath and returned the smile. God, he was cute!

"I used Spectre funds," she said simply.

Foster caught her in his arms, holding her up and spun her around, then, embarrassment creeping into his eyes, he stopped and set her down. "Sorry, Commander. It's just that ship's my livelihood."

"We could use a good man like you in the Alliance. I could get you assigned to the _Normandy."_

_"_The Alliance might find some things in my record that makes me ineligible." He smiled again, and muttered so that only Hobbs heard. "And get me locked up for the rest of my days."

"I think I could be convincing." Abigail said, feeling heat creep into her face as she recovered from being pressed against him. "If you wanted to be assigned here that is… if you can, you know – toe the line." She smiled "And leave my crew members alone." She added pointedly.

"Thanks Tempy." Hobbs said sincerely and she glanced his way, a long moment passing silently between them as she moved her shoulders and he could see the internal struggle in her to be agreeable taking his brother's words into account.

"No problem." She said at last. She glanced back to Foster, blushing again as she cleared her throat "I should. Go. Be Commander-like. You guys have fun." She took a step backwards and raised her chin as she called over their heads toward the turian and krogan "Play nice!"

With a start Foster called "Hey, Commander!"

Pausing, Shepard turned to face the young blonde once more. His use of her title was not lost on her as she smiled "Yes?"

Foster sketched her one of the smartest, crispest salutes she'd ever received.

She nodded. "That's a good start." And gave him one back "Welcome aboard the Normandy."

Hobbs watched her go then turned back to his brother, nursing his injured shoulder as he smiled "You almost died there Foster. Just thought I would warn you – Shepard is a biotic, do not. Do that. Again."


End file.
